


Watch You Come Undone

by ViceCaptain



Series: Kings of Wrecks [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: But then porn happens, I needed to get my feels out, I'm emotional don't touch me, Lots of delusions in the first part, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23536111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViceCaptain/pseuds/ViceCaptain
Summary: Five years have passed since that day. Five years since the jungle and the unmaking of James Flint.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver
Series: Kings of Wrecks [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1702672
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54





	Watch You Come Undone

**Author's Note:**

> So. I finally watched the last season (yeah, I know) and this is what happens when I'm left alone with all the feels these two bastards caused me. This is a canon diversion set five years after the ending.  
> Title taken from Saint Mesa's "Throne", I recommend you listen to it (on Spotify since it doesn't exist on YouTube) because it's such a Flint/Silver song it hurts. Also, it loosely inspired me to take all this stuff out.  
> Hope you enjoy.
> 
> NOW WITH AMAZING ASTOUNDING ART FROM MY ADORABLE FRIEND DRACONTESSA, go smother her in love and appreciation [here!](https://dragonbier.tumblr.com/post/614926084844175360/my-lovely-friend-vicecapitain-wrote-this)

Five years have passed since that day. Five years since the jungle and the unmaking of James Flint. And with him, he carefully unmade Long John Silver too. One couldn’t live without the other and as he pulled away the very ground from beneath him, as he buried his purpose along with that cache, he quietly stabbed that part of himself, the one that would have followed James Flint to the end of the world until every reign and every country was left burning. He would have and he wanted, still dreams what they could have become, what terrible force to reckon… But the price to it had always been to sit back and watch Flint burn alive, slowly losing whatever was left of the man, replaced by rage and resolution.

He couldn’t bear to lose him, he’d rather tear himself apart and decide to bury their war and their dreams forever. Ultimately, he merely wished to give James Flint some peace, as selfish as that was… But acts of love are terribly selfish, aren’t they?

Five years later there he is, John Silver, or what is left of him. Alone and resentful, trying to find a way to at least be himself again after so much of his being had been taken away. He’s living to the day somehow, he’s always been good at that after all.

That night a storm is crashing on the coast, violent. The rain pours like the sky is falling, thunder and lightning strike as often as the beating of his own heart, the wind howls like damned souls receiving their punishment in hell. It’s just his rotten luck that he’s out trying to make his way back to the little cottage he’s currently living in. Water beats on him painfully and the only place that tempest must be even fiercer is the sea. He can only see the black shape of the waves rising from where his place is standing (granted that the wind won’t blow it away) and then the crashing sound follows, somewhere between thunder and a howl.

He opens the door to the empty house, dark and cold and so damn empty. The hideous weather only helps to make it worse. He takes off his soaked coat and takes two steps blindly before the flash of lightning brightens the room and he sees the figure in the corner. His hand runs to his dagger, but before he can even move or speak, the figure lights up a lantern on the table it is sitting next to and John’s hand falls limply to the side. If it wasn’t for the crutch he would have fallen, probably.

There, watching him from the shadows, is James Flint, his black clothes dripping from the rain, his red hair is still shaved, his eyes are hooded in darkness but their green fire shines fiercely while he watches him, a sword is resting on the table. He looks like the sea just spat him out, terrible and magnificent… as he always had been.

In the silence, Silver can’t help but wonder if that is a ghost or a hallucination… it wouldn’t even be the first time his delusions would take the form of James Flint. But he’s cruelly sober right now and whatever replica his mind could conjure couldn’t compare to the real man. He learnt to recognize James Flint with his instincts rather than his sight and that presence is so powerful and absolute that only he could have worn it so effortlessly.

“Good evening, John” he says and his voice is that same velvety sound that could reach out and caress his very soul, the same quiet tone that could turn into whisper or snarl as easily and he had loved every inflection of it. And for a change, John Silver is at a loss for words, he needs to step further into the room and sit down in front of him before he can find his voice, crutch abandoned to the side.

“Why are you here?” he asks, breathless. It’s almost painful to see him there, looking at him, so close he just has to reach a hand to touch. He thought he severed what bound them but just seeing him is enough to feel him pull at parts of him he believed dead and gone.

“Why do you think?” Flint replies and anyone would guess he’s there to take revenge on Silver, but he isn’t anyone. He’s here for him, but to do what isn’t really obvious… he thought he brought peace to James Flint, that he was given some kind of life… What is he doing here? With a crippled shadow of a man that took his mission away from him? He doesn’t have an answer for that… so he deflects.

“What happened to you? What about Thomas?” he asks instead.  
“Ah, yes, Thomas” Flint starts and even then he can’t help the soft and gentle smile pulling at his lips, the one that would always belong to Thomas Hamilton “he was every bit as I remembered him, as if time never reached him, as if he just returned to existence at that moment. He fit perfectly in the jagged scar I held of him.” He says and there’s something painful behind the words “But I could never fit back into the space I once occupied in him. I was and I am a different man. One that he couldn’t forgive.” He’s so definitive it almost makes Silver physically flinch “Even more so when he knew the blood toll, the bodies I dropped, everything I laid to waste… it was in his name and in his name Miranda found her death as well.”

It is an absolute reality James Flint had to face like hitting a wall and now Silver is doing the same, right in this room “Even if you unmade me, even if you destroyed the foundations of the man I had become… I still wear his bones, John. And I think there’s only one person that can take a look at that and not shriek in horror.”

Silver shakes his head in disbelief, not because he can’t understand the meaning of those words, but because he can’t accept the painful reality of them “You were supposed to be at peace” he says, voice trembling… All he did, all he gave up was just to grant that pulsing wound of a man some rest.  
“And you were supposed to be living” comes the quick reply.

It’s like a slap to the face, so much so that Silver turns away from Flint, focusing his sight on the floorboards while he tries to absorb the hit.  
“Where is Madi?” Flint asks, relentless “Five years aren’t really that long. What happened to the two of you?”

When Silver looks back at him he finds genuine concern and maybe something akin to irritation, as if he’s blaming him to have ruined it, to have fallen into his prediction of that kind of life not being enough for him. He sighs, it’s a whole different story and he still can’t put his finger on whatever went wrong “we tried” he starts “and at first it all worked out, we devoted us to one another like survivors trying to erase the memory of pain. But somehow there has always been a tension, something unspoken lingering in every corner.” He grimaces at the memory of the heavy silences that cut more than the vicious words they might have exchanged “it wasn’t different from parents losing a child, unable to fill the void that is left between them and reaching for one another wouldn’t be enough to make it better. She hadn’t abandoned her war for that.”

Silver wondered many times if that gaping emptiness had its epicenter into James Flint, to him it probably did. And with him, it swallowed Madi’s war and the half of John she got to know and love during a time he was so merged with Flint he almost struggled to recognize the face in the mirror.

Flint is silent now, weighing his words, reaching into him with his unrelenting gaze, probably acknowledging the bare wreck of a man he made of himself… he unmade Flint which meant he unmade himself just as much.

His gaze softens after the scrutiny, James Flint isn’t there to kill him off, he’s there to tell him something he somehow failed to realize… Which could kill him nonetheless, after everything they went through.

“I’m amazed you didn’t fully read the meaning behind my words at that time. When I said you and Madi were to be the ones to guide our men.” He says bending to place his elbows on his knees, his eyes seem to lose focus, probably because he’s remembering a time that right now feels ancient, someone else’s life.

“It was so clear and obvious to me. Leaving to the ones I trusted more than anyone the rule of whatever space we could claim for us.” He huffs softly, not quite a laugh, more a surprised exhale “Letting myself vanish in the war and fire that forged me, dying for the very purpose I brought with me, becoming one with rage and blood and steel until there was nothing left of me.” Now he almost seems to wear thin, as if he’s made of dust, of ashes, it’s physically painful to see such a man admit he was ready to end himself the way he had always lived. He then looks up at his eyes and he seems to find his solidity back, as if blood is suddenly coursing through his veins again “But at least it would have meant something if it was to leave it all in your hands.”

And that is huge. That admission throws frightful shadows on John Silver’s selfish gesture, he could live with the knowledge that he took the fury away from Flint to give him peace instead… But to take away the only thing James Flint had made peace with, the only shiny beacon in his burning obscurity, it had been probably worse than if he pulled the trigger on him in that fucking jungle.

The realization makes Silver shake and gasp, it makes his insides ache and he hates that only now Flint allows all those words to flow, that he clawed his way back to him only to let him know how wrong he had been in his assumptions, how meaningless his ultimate act of love had been. It’s worse than dying and it’s exactly what Silver did to the other: he made his own act of love meaningless…

He’s utterly distraught, speechless. He can only sit back and let the slow and unforgiving onslaught of Flint’s truth hit him.

“Now, you see” he continues “I willingly surrendered myself to your rule, I bowed my head and accepted your taming. So, when you said I was to be sent to that plantation I did whatever subject would have done: I yielded.” Another vast admission: until the very end, James Flint never allowed himself to be taken out of the equation in the grand scheme of power, until he clearly said Silver and Madi were to be the ones to guide their revolt “I’m coherent with myself and, as a man that wanted to burn an entire empire down, if I surrendered my authority to someone I had to honor that.”

All those words are stones thrown at him, are bullets finding their way to his most vulnerable parts. The breath is cut from him, he’s coming undone right in front of Flint without a sound.

“It took me a lot of time to escape that prison, as kind as it was, it never was redemption… it was yet another rug to sweep the dust under.” He adds with bitterness “So now I’m after whatever is left for me… or probably what there ever was for me since the start… You.”

Silver is suddenly pulled by those words, he looks up at his eyes, shivering, on the verge of breaking and with utter disbelief dripping from his every pore.

“I’m here for you, John, and there’s no rug you can sweep this dust under. There’s nothing else for us, but you and I. Nothing else can fit inside me.” Flint says, voice suddenly soft and quivering, as if he could shatter right there if he speaks too loudly. With a frailty that is heartbreaking but a determination in his eyes he only had when he burnt kingdoms to the ground.

“Nothing else can fit inside me either” Silver admits with trembling words and it has always been as easy as that, but so difficult to just admit. He sucks a shuddering breath, eyes filling with tears “My God, what have we done to one another?” he whispers.

They have been raging fools, all the way down, they became part of one another just to inflict such pain to themselves. And now that there’s nothing left, now that they destroyed everything else, what is left for them? Ruins, ashes, and dust.

And honestly… he’d take it. It’s painfully obvious they can’t escape one another, they can deceive anyone but the man sitting in front of one another. They destroyed their very being to commit acts of love for their sake and in the end, the only thing they really needed to do was reaching for who had become their half.

Flint stands up and moves closer, bending to place his hands on the arms of the chair, closing up to him, trapping Silver in the circle of his arms, forcing him to face that truth, their truth “What haven’t we done to one another?” he asks, spinning the question around, he’s so close his breath tickles on Silver’s face, the icy cold water drips on him. More than his imposing frame, his blazing green eyes are what pins him down to that chair, unable to move or even breathe until their lips finally touch.

\-----------------------------------

James Flint had spent weeks, maybe months, wondering what could possibly be the taste of John Silver’s lips. He couldn’t have come close even if he spent centuries… and he’s never been so happy to be proved wrong.

What started as a quiet kiss, turns quickly into a desperate attempt at devouring each other’s mouths, they are helpless and panting, tongues battling to claim control. Silver’s hands are clinging to his shoulders and how he’s still standing is all but a mystery. But that can’t be enough, would never be enough.

He pulls back, breath hitching in his throat, body heating up quickly despite the freezing rain still drenching his clothes. The other looks up at him, almost desperate that he lost their contact and it’s just so hard to not pull him back against him, his blue eyes plea silently “All I did… in the end, it was for you” he whispers, still baffled with that simple truth that he probably hadn’t allowed himself until now.

Flint grabs on him, pulling him up to stand “I know” he growls softly, forcing him to sit on the table next to them and kissing him again, pressing against his body that gives without protest, ready to be drowned in him. His hands are as furious as they used to be when he cut men down with his blade, pulling on damp clothes and revealing the bronze skin beneath. His lips latch to Silver’s neck and make their way down along his chest, swallowing the shivers that wreck it.

How many times had he watched John Silver from an acceptable distance and marveled at his beauty? At what kind of sound could his throat produce? How many times had he ogled at those narrow hips, at that painfully handsome face? At those blue eyes that put even the ocean to shame?

He never dared to touch the smooth skin or kiss the lips and it suddenly seems the most idiotic thing. While Silver bends beneath his touch and offers his neck like a sacrificial offering, his curly and wild hair cascades to the wooden surface beneath him like vines. There’s something statuary to him and Flint finds himself lost in the sight for a long moment, the gentle pressure of his thighs around his waist is what brings him back to his senses.

“T-the bed” Silver stutters between kisses and sighs and, sure enough, Flint can see a bed in his periphery vision, somewhere in the corner. He weighs his options there because he just wants to rip the clothes off of him and take him right there on that wobbly table, to be honest. The other grabs on his chin and makes him look up at him, for the first time since forever he sees him smirk, playful “James” he says, soft but resolute “The bed, now”.

Honestly, Silver just has such a grip on him, he always had. There’s no point in pretending that man hadn’t completely tamed him. Flint sighs and picks him up from there to drop him on the bed, wasting no time before he’s back on him with hands and lips claiming the prize for his obedience. Silver chuckles between the soft moans, fisting on his shirt as if he could be washed away by the tide as soon as they let go of one another.

There’s no finesse to them while they fumble to get clothes out of the way, throwing them to the side unceremoniously, getting stuck in them from time to time, too needy to move efficiently and too enamored with every patch of skin revealed to them.

Now that they are finally naked, the slide of skin against skin is enough to press helpless whimpers from them, bodies slotting together while Flint claims his place between Silver’s legs, their members sliding together while they hold onto each other, overwhelmed by their desire.

They had danced around one another, invaded each other mind so many times, but never dared to close the distance between their bodies. It makes Flint wonder if it could have given them that last clarity, that last bit of courage they needed to admit their feelings openly. It has no meaning anymore, there’s no higher purpose now, no holy war, no rightful vengeance… there’s just the desperate embrace of two men being each other’s half, claiming the place they carved inside one another.

In a quick blur, Flint finds himself laying on the mattress, Silver straddling him with that vicious grin he got to know so well in the years. He looks down at him and he’s simply glorious “tell me again the bit about me taming you” he whispers in his ear before sitting up, assessing his control.

He grins as well, hands running to his thighs, squeezing them to keep himself from tossing the other down and just have his way with him “Uhm, are you sure you can manage?” he asks playfully, quirking a brow at him, openly challenging. Silver looks amused and affronted before he snorts “please” his confidence streams smoothly out of him, he looks younger, like the first time they met.

Even if Silver likes to act daring right now, Flint won’t have him go ahead recklessly so he pushes his fingers to the other’s lips, watching as he discloses them to pull the digits in, tongue swirling around them quite suggestively, all the while they never break eye contact. He deems it enough in a matter of seconds, more because Silver’s so tempting that he finds himself struggling to keep control just from the sight and the damn sultry _looks_ he’s giving him.

He moves to press on the other’s opening, pushing the digits past the muscles with barely contained satisfaction as Silver closes his eyes and focuses on making his body adapt, Flint doesn’t know if he ever engaged in the act with another man, but he does seem to know how to go about it. If he’s just looking the part he surely is good at it… as it usually happens with him. He adapts and gets the most out of every situation, it shouldn’t be surprising.

Of course, the thought that maybe he had that kind of encounter before is more than a little irritating to Flint, as selfish as that sounds… he’s pushing deeper now, efficiently opening him and watching every little reaction on Silver’s face, he could have studied him for days… God, he had missed him, he had missed this even if they never did it before.

The discomfort must have subsided because Silver is rolling his hips now, precum dripping from him as he tries to muffle obscene moans and Flint thinks he could just watch him come apart like that, working him open slowly and thoroughly, see how he crumbles and shatters from something as simple as that.

Needless to say, he’s far too thirsty for him to play such a game and he’s replacing his fingers with his cock soon enough, studying John’s expression as he dares to push in slowly. Silver offers him another of his cunning smirks and then grinds his hips down, taking him in to the hilt, leaving them both breathless. The sensation is heady, his body welcoming him is so hot and tight, it breaks his mind with the perfection of it.

And to realize that he’s now carving himself physically into the other is almost too much, it breaks his walls and his armor, leaves him raw and exposed like a wound and only John Silver could see such a thing. Clearly, he gets a glimpse of it and immediately wants more, he starts moving to pull groans from him, he fucks himself on his member picking up pace and intention.

Flint is mesmerized to see Silver above him, letting his control slip away to leave space for the pleasure, his back arches in a sinful way trying to ride the hot shivers, threatening to become too much, the moans he’s letting out are shameless and he couldn’t keep from sitting up and swallow them down with his kisses.

His arms wind tightly around Silver, pressing him close while he thrusts his hips up, unable to contain his crippling need. They are keeping each other in a tight embrace while they move together, mouths chasing and biting, tongues tangling. Fingers dig in the skin and damp hair, sweat covers them while they ride slowly, gentle like a quiet sea.

It’s a slow build-up while they drag it out, breathing one another, whispering softly, allowing themselves some of that peace that they tried to give each other so many times before… they only needed to give in to their visceral longing.

“I thought… about coming to find you” Silver admits, voice strained from pleasure “Just to see from afar that man I never knew…”. Flint lets out a whimper and pulls back to force the other to look in his eyes “See… there’s nothing you d-don’t know of me” he replies before moving to lay Silver down. He doesn’t want to leave that place, looking down at him, buried deep in him, looking at those warm crystal eyes, luring him like the sea.

It’s a brief moment of stillness, finding their place within one another as it should have been. It’s as if they are finding those parts of them they thought lost forever into each other’s memory of them.

Now Flint sets the pace, pounding into him hard enough to make the cheap bed squeak under them, the fire burning in him, but it has a new name. It’s not rage, but consuming need and he’s a slave to it while he thrusts into Silver’s body, stirring his insides with every deep push, reaching that spot that has him writhe and call out his name.

They are chasing their release now, after the heat built up almost painfully and they have almost forgotten where one ends and the other begins. After everything they did to each other, after those years apart, after the pain and the useless martyrdom, it all comes down to this. To their weary bodies singing in pleasure with their hearts, finally connected as they should.

When they rush to the climax, it almost brings tears to their eyes and leaves them in a panting heap of limbs and slickness.

“I could live to see you lose yourself in this” Flint says, tired but smiling like a fool, something he thought he had cut from himself is now filling him to the brim and it’s exhilarating, so potent it could just bury all the pain they did to each other in that single moment of content.

Silver smiles at his words, very likely sharing the feeling. There’s more careful kissing and they let themselves fall in their embrace as if the storm could sweep them away in the night.  
“What now?” asks Silver, a hint of dread in his voice “We’re relics of a world that’s dying” he admits, tiredly. There’s no place for such wrecks and all the ghosts they bring with them.

“Then we die with it” Flint replies “we leave to find a place and if we never find it, we travel forever” he sighs, they are vicious beasts that can barely adjust to the borders of civilization, with or without each other “I’m not fitting myself into another prison, John” he adds, his tone definitive.

“I wouldn’t ask that of you… not again” Silver replies, looking up at him “So we sail again?” he asks then, more cheerfully “I mean… I still despise the sea, honestly” he adds with a grimace, but then he blushes softly, like a young boy “But if it’s with you…” he ends and it has always been like that for him, hasn’t it?

The reaction is nothing short of adorable, if two grown men could even be associated with the word “I think we can come up with something” Flint replies with a loving kiss to his forehead “We could still be able to make civilization crumble if we wanted to”. If he was to swear to something to the day he dies, that would be that there’s nothing they can’t obtain if they put their energies and wills to it. That will always be his best achievement: reaching that kind of potential with someone.

Silver huffs a little laugh “Let’s keep turning the world upside down as the last resort” he says, snuggling to him in the warm post-coital haze. Flint chuckles as well “If my king says so” he replies.  
“I don’t think I ever was a king, but now I’m just a wretch” Silver cues, trembling at the mere mention of the title to which Flint takes his hand to place it on his chest “You always were and will be. Here.” he whispers.

Flint watches as his lover tries to hide from his eyes after such a confession, that reaction is also far too precious to be allowed, but he revels in the feeling of his body pressed against his own from head to toe.  
“We both came undone” Silver states “we need one another to be whole again.”


End file.
